<p>Fed up with the 60-plus staff using foul language, Deborah Duplantis, one of the managers at Big Al's in Houma, imposed a friendly swear tax for each curse word uttered aloud. </p><p>Each bad word — you know, the ones you can't say on television — costs a quarter. And there's a 75-cent upcharge for using the Lord's name in vain. </p><p>Words that are deemed to have more offensive or prejudiced connotations can result in a staff member's termination. </p><p>Nine months and hundreds of swear words later, the restaurant has raised about $660, which will be donated to MacDonell Children's Services in Houma.</p><p>The orphanage, at 8326 Main St., houses children who have endured abuse and are undergoing treatment for emotional and behavioral disorders. </p><p>The swear tax can also be carried over to guests — usually to regulars who carry on at the bar. </p><p>“Yeah, the regulars have caught on. They know better,” said Jordan Page, bartender and the restaurant's other manager. </p><p>Every workplace should have a swear tax, Page joked. </p><p>“It's a great way to clean up the workplace while making a difference,” he said. </p><p>There's definitely been a decrease in swearing by the staff, said Duplantis, who says she rarely swears but pitches in by donating a portion of her tips after the occasional bartending shift. </p><p>Co-owner Lee Mahler said the swear tax is a lot of fun, but it is also kind. </p><p>“At first, I thought it was just funny,” Mahler said. “I never realized it would make this much money that we could donate to charity. I'm proud of Deborah for coming up with it.”</p><p>Mahler said she's contributed at least $5 to the plastic Elvis guitar swear-tax bin that's kept in sight behind the bar. </p><p>“Nobody objects to paying,” Duplantis said. “People don't think about how often they swear until they got to pay for it.”</p>